


its you i hold on to

by chocobos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tooth Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: Sometimes, though, he imagines walking up to the man and introducing himself. Maybe he’d even have a sylleblossom in his hand to serenade him with. Prompto’s shaky on the details, but fantasy-him is a go-getter, and he doesn’t fear no man.





	its you i hold on to

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be finished and posted for day two of promnis week, but i am very lazy by nature and my writing muse has significantly slowed down these last couple years, so! this is several days late and a dollar short but i hope you guys enjoy it anyway! 
> 
> i wanted to write something cute and fluffy and thankfully i managed to keep this one pretty short lmao
> 
> let me know what you think! thank you guys so much for your sweet comments on all of my recent fics ♥ i appreciate it more than you know and will be getting back to you all individually!!

Prompto catches a glimpse of him every night, once he goes on his daily run.

Sleep often escapes him, but running seems to help, at least. Admittedly, Prompto wouldn’t have such an easy time keeping it up if it weren’t for the mid-run pick me up.

Today the man’s looking as beautiful as ever, hair spiked delicately up and away from his face. A few strands crowd around his ears, which he finds more than a little endearing. Prompto’s never been close enough to see what color his eyes are, but he  _knows_ they’re amazing, regardless.

Everything about this dude is.

Which sounds like such a line, but it’s a little annoying how attractive he is.

Prompto’s grateful he’s never had a cause to make conversation because, without a doubt, he’d be stumbling and stuttering his way through, which is markedly less endearing. Nobody wants a front row seat to Prompto self-imploding. _No one._

Sometimes, though, he imagines walking up to the man and introducing himself. Maybe he’d even have a sylleblossom in his hand to serenade him with. Prompto’s shaky on the details, but fantasy-him is a go-getter, and he doesn’t fear no man. Fantasy him also would’ve already asked Balcony Dude out by now, but that's neither here nor there.

Prompto’s content with his overactive imagination, though. Or at least he was until it all blows up in his face.

  
  


-☆-

  
  
  


He’s out on his balcony again.

Prompto can see him from down the street, and he just  _knows_ when he gets closer he’ll see a steaming cup of coffee balanced on the railing. Prompto’s chest goes embarrassingly tight at the thought. It’s a little ridiculous, most likely incredibly pathetic, how much Prompto  _wants_. How weak he is for a pretty face.

A face that he’s never seen outside of the shadows, but a face he likes all the same.

He keeps his gaze steady in front of him, trying not to give himself away even if he doubts the dude is paying attention him. Either way, he’d rather keep the scraps of his dignity intact, thank you very much.

“Good evening,” The man from the balcony calls.

Prompto’s blood stops abruptly in his veins.

 _Shit_. What does he even say?

 _Probably start with a hello, you utter dingus,_ he yells internally.

“Uh” Prompto stutters, blinks, and then (thankfully) gets his shit together. “Heyaz!”

The man doesn’t say anything after that, simply waving at Prompto as he turns to back to his coffee mug. The memory keeps him warm anyway, playing on repeat in his head until he finally hits his pillow and falls asleep.

  
  
  


-☆-

  
  
  


It becomes a thing, after that.

The only time the man isn’t out when Prompto’s running is if it’s raining -- or one memorable, almost-contracting-hypothermia instance, a snowstorm -- but other than that, Prompto sees him on the daily. Their four-word conversations are the part of his day he looks forward to the most, which all feels slightly ridiculous. Prompto doesn’t even know Balcony Dude’s name.

Prompto would ask for it if he weren’t such a floundering idiot.

As it is, though, he’s perfectly content with not knowing it, being as it saves him from further embarrassment in front of the most attractive guy in all of Eos. Prompto could write sonnets ( _sonnets_ ) about the cut of his cheekbones, the delicate slope of his nose. Maybe his eyes, too, if Prompto ever gets close enough to catch more than a glimpse of them.

But, that would require talking to him.

He complains about it to Noctis, who is less than sympathetic. (“This would be less of a problem if you would actually say more than two words to him,” Noctis points out, like

Prompto doesn’t already know this.

“I can’t subject him to  _this_ ,” Prompto says, gesturing vaguely at himself.

Noctis rolls his eyes. “But, you subject me to it just fine.”

Prompto shoves a pillow in his face in retaliation. “That’s different, asshole!”)

Begrudgingly, Prompto admits that his best friend may have a point. Talking to Balcony Dude -- actually talking to him -- would solve nearly all of his problems, except maybe exacerbating his crush on him. That’s okay, really. Prompto’s a pro at dealing with devastating crushes by now.

Prompto decides to try on a Friday because the weekends are sacred and if the guy doesn’t want to introduce himself, he can drown himself in shame over the weekend and change his running route if he’s truly feeling that hurt.

Balcony Dude is right where Prompto expects him to be, a cup of coffee on his railing and what looks like a book clasped in his hands. His heart pounds in his chest at the thought of officially introducing himself and he has to take multiple breaths to calm himself down. Prompto feels a little embarrassed over just how worked up he is, but at least it’s dark enough that it hides the blush crawling over his skin.

“Good evening,” The man says as soon as Prompto’s in view.

Prompto gives a jaunty wave with a shaky smile. “Hey, dude.” He stops in his tracks and looks up through his lashes at Balcony Dude. “I’m Prompto, by the way.”

If the man thinks his clumsy segue is disastrous, at least he’s kind enough not to say anything about it. Instead, the man’s leaning forward over the railing, elegantly avoiding his coffee and looking every bit like a model. Prompto’s throat dries up.

“I have to admit, I was quite curious,” the man answers, voice laced with amusement. Prompto’s pleased to note the accent curling around his words. It makes him feel like there’s some sort of solidarity between them now or something. Insomnia, after all, isn’t exactly known for being kind to outsiders. “Ignis Scientia. A pleasure.”

Even his name sounds fancy, which makes sense. The man’s never looked anything but immaculately put together, and it does nothing to quell the curiosity swirling inside of him. He seems like a businessman of some sort. Completely out of Prompto’s league, he is.

“Nice to officially meet you, man!” Prompto echoes back.

At least he doesn’t stammer, this time.

“You as well,” Ignis --  _Ignis_ ; Prompto knows his name now, he thinks giddily. He knows Balcony Dude’s name and he didn’t even get hurt in the process.

That’s a success if he’s ever heard of one.

Prompto gestures towards the sidewalk. “Uh, I should probably continue my run, but don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

Prompto can see the white of his teeth when he smiles.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Prompto grins, and waves awkwardly. He takes off without a backward glance -- he can’t put his heart through that when it’s already been through so much today.

He goes home.

His cheeks hurt from smiling.

  
  
  


-☆-

  
  
  


Talking to Ignis, actually talking to him, quickly becomes part of his routine. Sometimes Prompto will only stop for a handful of minutes, asking how Ignis’ day was and hesitantly answering when the question is returned. Sometimes he’s there for much longer, though, talking to Ignis about anything and everything that comes to mind.

It’s nice. To have companionship with someone he hasn’t known since he was in grade school. Prompto wouldn’t go as far to call them friends; acquaintances, sure, but friends? Prompto wouldn’t count himself  _that_ lucky.

Still. Prompto enjoys it all the same.

One evening, Ignis is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs to his apartment building, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. Prompto raises an eyebrow as he approaches, stopping dutifully in front of the taller man.

“Yo, Iggy,” Prompto greets.

Ignis smiles indulgently. “Evening, Prompto. Care for a cup?”

Prompto learns, in this moment, it’s nearly impossible to say no to him, especially not when he looks so guardedly expectant. He holds out a hand, fingers brushing with Ignis’ when he passes the mug over. His heart beats against his ribcage at the contact, little lightning bolts of warmth spider-webbing up his arm.

“Thank you,” Prompto says, breathlessly. “What’s the occasion?”

Ignis tilts his head, sitting down on the stairs. Prompto follows suit -- his run, for the moment, can wait.

“It’s rather cold out but you never wear a jacket,” he says, clicking his tongue.

Truth be told, Prompto doesn’t notice the cold, has never really noticed it until he’s already shivering, teeth clattering. It’s chilly out tonight, but not unbearable.. Even so, he feels a little sheepish.

“Ah, yeah, I always forget them at home,” He says on a laugh. “Did you bring me coffee just so I wouldn’t get cold? How altruistic of you, Iggy.”

“I’d be a poor friend if I let you freeze.”

_Friend._

Ignis thinks they’re  _friends_.

Prompto has to hold back a ‘whoop!’ and he hides his obvious mirth in his coffee mug. The coffee is perfect, just the right temperature so it doesn’t burn his mouth, rich, but bitter. He makes an appreciative noise, feeling the heat of Ignis’ gaze on the side of his face.

“This is perfect, man,” He says, appreciatively. “Thank you for warming me up.”

“You’re welcome,” Ignis says, taking a sip from his own mug. “Ebony is delicious.”

Prompto whistles. Ebony is some expensive stuff, something he’s never had the luxury to afford. Who has eight dollars a cup to spend on coffee, anyway? Ignis, apparently.

“An Ebony a day keeps the doctor away?”

“Precisely,” Ignis says, mouth stretching into a pleased little grin.

Prompto itches for his camera. Ignis looks so gorgeous, with the moonlight bouncing off of his ridiculously high cheekbones and perfectly shaped lips. This close, he can see the forest green of his eyes, the way they almost seem to glitter. He’s never been faced with someone so wholly attractive before. He’s suddenly grateful for the blanket of his freckles and darkness.

Hopefully, they cover enough of his blush.

“Why are you always out here so late, anyway?” Prompto blurts.

Ignis considers the question before answering, humming thoughtfully. “I find the stars comforting. However, they are hard to see in the city.”

Prompto eyes widen. “Have you been outside the wall?”

“Several times,” Ignis answers honestly. “I take it you haven’t?”

“Not since I was adopted when I was a baby,” Prompto says.

Ignis smiles. “I suggest you go when you can. It’s breathtaking.”

Prompto can name something --  _someone_ \-- else that’s breathtaking but miraculously manages to keep his mouth shut.

“I want to, dude. I’m dying to take pictures of whatever is out there.”

Another hum.

“You’re a photographer?”

“ _Amateur_  photographer” Prompto laughs. “I’ve never been published or anything, but I dream, y’know?”

“We all start somewhere,” Ignis points out.

Warmth quickly spreads throughout his body. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to find the courage to lean over and kiss Ignis right now. The only person he’s ever showed his photography to is Noctis, and while his best friend is more than encouraging with his craft, he feels thoroughly warmed by Ignis’ praise and support.

“I guess,” Prompto allows. “Kind of sucks waiting for it to kick off, though.”

“It does, indeed. Though, I have faith in you, Prompto. You can do anything you set your mind to, never forget that.”

Prompto’s blush completely takes over his face at that.

He fumbles. “Ah, dude… I -- thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

They sit there in companionable silence until both of their coffees are drained. For once, it doesn’t feel awkward or forced; silences with Ignis are just as great as talking with him, and he finds this moment of quiet appreciation between them calms him.

“Thank you, Ignis. For tonight, I mean. This was just what I needed.”

“No thanks are necessary, Prompto.” Ignis says, looking pleased. “I’m only grateful I could help.”

Prompto smiles at him, bumping their shoulders together. “I should continue my run before my legs completely die on me.”

Ignis chuckles, gently taking the mug out of his hands, and Prompto wonders if he purposely brushes their fingers together again. Astrals, he hopes so.

“Go on, then.”

Prompto gets to his feet, stretching out his legs as he goes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Ignis confirms.

It feels like a promise.

 

 

 

-☆-

  
  
  
  


It's a few weeks later, and Ignis isn’t out here.

That’s the first thing Prompto notices as he turns on Ignis’ street. His balcony is empty, the infamous coffee cup is absent, and Prompto’s chest feels so heavy, like it might collapse in on himself. He slows to a stop in front of Ignis’ balcony, thinks of throwing a pebble up there to check if he’s alright, but then thinks better of it.

Knowing his luck, he’d probably crack the window, or worse, shatter it.

So, he turns back to his route instead, dejectedly starting up his run and leaves Ignis' empty apartment behind him. 

 

 

-☆-

 

 

 

The next time Prompto sees Ignis, he's right where he expects him to be. Prompto grins tiredly, waving up at him and cupping his hands over his mouth to carry his voice. 

"Iggy!" 

"Hello, Prompto," Ignis greets, but when Prompto comes closer, his expression clouds and he holds up a finger. "I'll be but a moment." 

Prompto shrugs his shoulders, watching Ignis retreat back into his apartment. Was he offended by the sight of Prompto, or something? Not that he blames him, Prompto  _does_  look a little worse for wear today. It's been even harder to sleep than usual, and the amount of work he needs to do does nothing to help that. 

He's taken out of his thoughts by Ignis' front door opening, and there he is, holding out something wrapped in a napkin and a cold bottle of water. 

"You look tired today. Is everything alright?" 

Prompto blinks at the offering. Is Ignis... Is Ignis taking care of him again? His chest tigthtens, stomach dropping pleasantly. Oh gods, he totally is. Prompto's getting taken care of by the most beautiful man in all of Eos, and he might just die because of it. 

"Aww, Iggy, you don't have to feed me," Prompto says, but he takes them both anyway. 

"Nonsense," Ignis waves him off. "I wanted a second opinion on these scones, regardless." 

Prompto gasps. "Did you make these?" 

"I did." 

He wastes no time in opening the napkin-folded scone. He folds the napkin to fit in his pocket so he can throw it away later and delicately takes a bite. 

And then he moans.  _Actually moans_. He's never tasted anything so delicious and airy before; the flavors all blend together perfectly, sweet but not too sweet, tart but not enough to make him wince. He's finished with it before he even realizes it, and licks the crumbs off his lips. 

"Iggy, that was like, the best thing I've ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth," Prompto says. "I want to  _marry_ your scones. Can I marry your scones? They're  _that_  good." 

Ignis levels him with a look, one he can't quite parse. He doesn't think it's bad, even though his anxiety does a damn good job trying to convince him otherwise. Instead of immediately saying anything, Ignis squares his shoulders after a few moments and turns to face Prompto completely. 

"Go on a date with me instead," Ignis says. 

Prompto's brain stops existing for a while. 

Did he? 

"For reals?" Prompto chokes out, brain an endless string of dial-up noises. 

"Forgive me if I assumed anything," Ignis starts. "But I'd love to take you out to dinner, Prompto." 

Prompto finally kicks his ass into gear, and he looks up into Ignis' eyes. They give away nothing, which is unsurprising. Ignis doesn't seem like the type of guy to give anything up. He wraps twitching arms around Ignis neck and pulls their bodies close together. 

"I'd love to go out on a date with you, Ignis." 

At that, Ignis wraps (muscular;  _so_  muscular) arms around his waist, returning the hug.

"That is rather relieving, I must admit." 

Prompto pulls away so he can meet Ignis' gaze again. "But, wasn't I like, super obvious, though?" 

"Not entirely," Ignis tells him.

"Well, you heard it here first, Iggy. I've wanted to go on a date with you since I saw you brooding in the moonlight." 

Ignis throws his head back and laughs. "Brooding, was I?" 

"Basking in the stars' eternal light, maybe?" 

The taller man shakes his head, but he also leans forward to press a soft kiss on Prompto's cheek. 

"Perhaps I was trying to catch the attention of the cute runner I saw every night."

Prompto scoffs. "Ha, as if!" 

Ignis' mouth twitches.

"You are rather cute." 

His cheeks flood red, heart stuttering. 

"And you're ridiculous." 

"And charming?"

Prompto grins, leaning up to kiss Ignis' cheek this time. "And charming." 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!


End file.
